


things we've handed down

by somehowunbroken



Category: DCU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mar’i Grayson is born into a family that defines both <i>unconventional</i> and <i>loving</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things we've handed down

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, guys. Seriously. Title shamelessly stolen from [Marc Cohn's "The Things We've Handed Down"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqyc7lWi9xc).

Mar’i Grayson is born into a family that defines both _unconventional_ and _loving_. Her mother is a princess from a planet that Mar’i will never see; she has indescribable powers and a proud tilt to her chin when she talks about the planet that cast her away as nothing. Her father roams the streets at night, as powerless as her mother is strong, yet somehow her equal in battle. Her mother teaches her to fight; her father teaches her restraint. Her father gives Mar’i her name; her mother tells her what it means, how she came to be.

Daddy is smiles and light and laughter, tossing her into the air and catching her with sure hands. He treats her like the princess that she supposes she really is, but helps her learn the way of the planet she calls home and never leaves her wanting for anything. “My little one,” he praises her all of her life, “my starshine, my baby.”

Mami has her regal airs, the faces she puts on for different occasions, the way she talks and lets her eyes crinkle when she wants to smile. She teaches Mar’i how to crawl and walk and run, how to fight and defend, and how to center her mind “You belong to no one but yourself, Nightstar,” she says again and again. “No man restrains you; no man contains you. You are the heir of Tamaran, and you are your own.”

Mami says it as she looks at Daddy, the little crease between her eyes that says she’s unsure about something, but Mar’i doesn’t know what it could be.

-0-

“You are your own, with no man to restrain you,” Mami says when Mar’i is fifteen, and Mar’i looks at the way Mami looks at Daddy and thinks, _oh, Mami, not all chains are bad_.

-0-

Ibn al Xu'ffasch is tall and stocky, broad in the shoulder and narrow in the waist. His eyes are granite gray and his hair as dark as Mar’i’s own. He snaps at Daddy and looks down his nose at Mami and speaks respectfully only to Grandfather. Mar’i dislikes him instantly.

-0-

Ibn knocks on the door and enters without pausing. His eyes sweep the room, and for a moment Mar’i is certain that he didn’t notice her. She continues her movements, right-left-right-twist-flip, and it’s not until she completes her training exercise that she looks for him again.

“There is a weakness in your defense,” he says from the doorway, his eyes trained on her. “Your third rotation is dangerously unbalanced.”

Mar’i bristles, makes to tell the man to state his business and leave, but he adds, “I had the same problem, once. May I show you?”

She never does find out why he appeared that day, but by the time Ibn leaves, Mar’i’s rotations balance perfectly.

-0-

“He’s dangerous,” Daddy says with a frown, and Mar’i stops washing the plate in her hands and stares.

“We are all dangerous,” she says after a moment. “Danger is a part of our life, Daddy. You taught me that.”

“I don’t like it,” Daddy replies. “Just – be careful around him, starshine. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Mar’i looks down at the plate and nods. When Daddy leaves, she puts the plate down entirely and stares out the window, lost in thought.

It takes her a full five minutes to realize that someone is staring back. She isn’t sure if it makes it better or worse that she knows that it’s Ibn.

-0-

“No man restrains you,” Mami says when she hears about Ibn. Mar’i doesn’t really listen, lets the words slide off her like water, but Mami’s hesitation brings her to attention.

“That includes your father,” Mami adds softly, and Mar’i smiles and throws her arms around Mami’s neck.

-0-

 _You belong to no man_ , Mami’s voice sounds in her head, but oh, how she wants to.

-0-

Mar’i wakes with Ibn curled around her, his arm coiled like a snake around her stomach, his face pressed into her shoulder. His hair is more of a rat’s nest than hers is, and she laughs when he runs his fingers through it.

“You mock me?” he asks gravely, somberly, but there’s a spark in his eyes as he rolls until her body is trapped beneath his.

“Never,” she promises, reaching up to run her fingers through the tangles of his hair. “Never.”

-0-

“I choose this for myself,” she says to Mami, who looks like she may never understand anything again. “He does not restrain me; I offer the ties to him willingly.”

-0-

There are rings exchanged as per Ibn’s traditions, and a length of rope wrapped delicately around their forearms as per Mar’i’s. She holds one end of the rope as he holds the other, and when she closes her eyes and falls back and holds on, she barely moves at all.

Mami looks astonished; Daddy looks like he can’t decide whether to be happy or sad. Ibn looks at her like she’s the sun in the morning – no, more like she’s the inky blackness of night, the place they’re both most comfortable.

Mar’i smiles.

-0-

Ibn makes a hollow sort of groaning noise when they wake, and Mar’i can’t help but smile at her husband. “Sleep,” she says, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He nods blearily and closes his eyes, and she’s certain that he’s lost to his dreams before she’s fully out of their bed.

She walks across the hallway and lifts their daughter out of her crib. Mar’i settles into the rocking chair that Grandfather had had made for them and brings her child up to rest on her shoulder. The rocking motion of the chair calms the baby, and it’s not long before her reedy wails even out into shuddering little breaths.

“You are my daughter,” Mar’i says, soft and soothing. “You belong to no one but yourself. None can restrain you; none can contain you.” She presses a kiss to the baby’s downy hair. “You are the heir of Tamaran, and you are your own.”


End file.
